


Missing

by hannibaby



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-29
Updated: 2013-09-29
Packaged: 2017-12-27 23:07:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/984730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannibaby/pseuds/hannibaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Doctor Lecter's capture has left Will Graham increasingly empty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Missing

**Author's Note:**

> One or two spoilers for Red Dragon. While I intend it to be a platonic relationship, if it makes you happy to read it as a romantic relationship, go for your life.

The snow fell lightly outside his window, wispy flakes dancing in the breeze. He sighed, pulling his legs close to his chest and absentmindedly playing with the loose threads on the worn cushion he sat upon. It was the time of the year he hated most – the time he was left alone with naught but his thoughts and the sad faces of his inquisitive dogs.

He missed him.

He loathed admitting it, even to himself. It felt wrong, immoral. How could he long for the presence of a monster, of a man who took pleasure in wringing the life out of people? Of a man for whom that was not enough, who devoured them as well?

But he did.

As if this hushed desire was not deplorable enough, he was acutely aware that his feelings were not reciprocated. That much was made strikingly clear the moment the blade plunged into his stomach, twisted up to his ribcage.

Still, Will reasoned. He had sent him letters and cards.

He dropped the threads from his hands. He doubted the other man cared about him in any real capacity, other than professional curiosity, as a tool to manipulate, to twist and warp into a creature as ugly as himself.

But still, he missed him.

He missed their conversations; the way each had immediately grasped exactly what the other meant no matter how abstract their imagery. He missed their sessions, their banter, their long drives to the next bloody scene. He missed understanding and being understood. He had preferred to believe a lie, to be swept up by the beautiful mirage before him in vain hope that he could forever cling to the only friend he’d ever known, no matter how twisted the reality was.

He missed his smell, the mildly intoxicating mixture of fine cotton and rich aftershave. He missed the way his hair would fall forward just ever so slightly, a little reassurance that there was a real person behind the perfectly groomed exterior. He missed his hand on his shoulder, his smile, the way his mouth twitched slightly in annoyance, a small betrayal of his otherwise emotionless expression. Despite all he knew, and though it should make him violently ill, he even missed their shared meals.

He looked down at his hands, twisting them in his lap, unfolding and folding them as if the repetitive motions would provide the answers he so desperately sought. He was not supposed to. In fact, he had been sternly advised against it on more than one occasion. But he wanted to. He so desperately wanted to. The desire pressed down on his chest, the loneliness he had felt for so long threatening to swallow him whole.

He grabbed his coat and wrapped his faded purple scarf around his neck as he trudged through the wet snow towards his car. Once inside, he steadied himself on the steering wheel and exhaled loudly, his breath fogging up the windscreen.

The journey seemed to last for years, the walk to the cell an eternity.

He could feel his heart racing and his skin hot; the fear that built with every step quickly dismantled by the longing for connection he felt within.

Then he saw him.

Hannibal looked straight at him, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly. With a simple, reassuring smile, Will felt the last of his fears melt away.

“Hello, Doctor Lecter.”  
  
“Hello, Will. Please, sit down.”


End file.
